Beautiful European buildings, luscious Latinos (the Argentineans really are a gorgeous bunch), gob-smackingly delicious food (an ice-cream a day became mandatory), colourful neighbourhoods, fabulous shopping, tango and a nightlife that only starts when the rest of the world is preparing for sleep – Buenos Aires is love.Left to fend for myself, after becoming completely dependent on Nikki’s fluent Spanish and company, I was dropped of at La Paz airport at the crack of dawn to catch my 7.30am flight to Buenos Aires.
Feeling exhausted after not being able to sleep the night before and from the general confusion I found myself in at the airport, the last thing I was prepared for was a mad woman who had occupied my seat and was refusing to budge. After a heated conversation with the air hostess (I gather it was heated from all the grunting that was going on), I was moved to the seat behind the one I was supposed to be sitting in, minutes before taking off.
With my ears popping, feeling exhausted and the mad woman, who was firmly entrenched in my seat, turning around every five minutes to pull faces at me, we headed for Santa Cruz in Bolivia to catch a connecting flight to Buenos Aires (up until this point, I was under the impression that the flight was heading straight to Buenos Aires, Santa Cruz came as a bit of a surprise).
Ushered from one end of the airport to the other and after a thorough investigation from the narcotics bureau of Santa Cruz, I was allowed into international departures to catch my flight to Buenos Aires.
A poorly signposted airport, I had no idea which gate I would be departing from and after being directed to about five different areas from various airport officials, I was eventually taken under the wing of a well-intentioned Argentinean who instructed me to sit with him as he was on his way to Buenos Aires and would let me know when I needed to board. All was good and well, until it was discovered that he was on a different flight and that I had spent an hour in the wrong departure terminal.
On the verge of tears, I rushed off to find my friend in the narcotics bureau (the only English speaking person in the airport) and with minutes to spare, all flustered and hot, I boarded the correct plane to Buenos Aires.
The mad woman, thankfully, had been left behind in Santa Cruz, however, I found myself behind a screaming toddler and a very proud father who was trying to take pictures of his son with his mobile phone – um, last time I checked, wasn’t it illegal to have your phone on when flying?
Arrived in Buenos Aires, far too frazzled to figure out their public transport system and caught a very expensive taxi (about R110) to my hostel in San Telmo. An area which is home to artists, musicians and a Bohemian crowd, with its cobbled streets, fresh fruit markets and newly renovated buildings, San Telmo was the perfect little spot for me to spend my week in Buenos Aires.
After a quick shower, I slipped into the one and only summer frock that I had brought with me (and also the only clean piece of clothing in my back pack) and went off to discover the city of Buenos Aires. A city that feels as if it is riding on the wave of an exhalation after a deep breath, Buenos Aires, is stylish yet quirky, fun, frivolous and flirtatious.
In full summer swing after cold and rainy Bolivia, I headed into a salon for a little spoil – after all, feet can make or break that pair of summer sandals. Using equipment that belonged in a museum, and a magnifying glass with a bright bulb attached, the group of women operating the salon and my feet, could tell you a thing or two about the 1920’s – the era I’m guessing when most of them were born. Fearing for the safety of my feet at times, I managed to come out unscathed and found myself back in the same spot a week later – R30 for a manicure and pedicure, it was worth the risk.
After sussing out the area and feasting on a big bag of delicious and juicy cherries, I headed back to my boutique hostel, with clean, fluffy, white towels, to meet up with Matheus my dorm mate, who had offered to show me around town. The best thing about Buenos Aires is that you can walk practically anywhere, from San Telmo, to Puerto Madero, to La Boca, to Recoleta, it is safe and easy to get around.
With a vague grasp of the city and slightly better bearings than a few hours earlier, we went to a Thai restaurant for dinner – fresh vegetables, no parasites – YAY! Talking about parasites, I gathered Matheus was aiming for a goodnight smooch and cuddle, so I made sure to tell him all about my worms and may have added a few more nasty ailments. Nice guy, great personality (i.e. major nerd)… now, if he had been a luscious Latino!
Thankfully Matheus headed home the next day and was replaced by Palestinian girl from Jerusalem who works for the British government. Lubner was far more interesting and we had much more in common. When we weren’t spending time at the hostel speaking to the three Juan-Manuel's, who became known as Juan 1, Juan 2 and Juan 3, we were out shopping and exploring the city.
With regards to the three Juan’s; Juan 3 was the owner, Juan 2 worked at the hostel and Juan 1 was a friend of Juan 2, who was staying at the hostel, while his flat was being painted. They were the nicest group of Juan’s that I have ever met, all super friendly, helpful and interesting (fabulously good looking too).
Buenos Aires is shopping heaven – women, gay men and metro-sexuals unite! Affordable and unpretentious, yet stylish with a unique twist, it will not disappoint. Palermo, the centre of shopping in this thriving city, is home to trendy restaurants, funky bars and stylish boutiques. A glorious little find, I eventually had to put a ban on entering the area, as I could have and would have brought everything.
Other areas in Buenos Aires are equally as enchanting; Recoleta, a plush neighbourhood, where generations of Argentina’s elite rest in ornate splendour, in the Cementoria de la Recoleta, is home to a beautiful crafts market, with exquisite jewellery and leather goods.
La Boca, situated along the old port and at the mouth of the Rio Riachuelo, famous for its colourful, corrugated metal buildings called Caminitos, is home to local artists who display their brightly coloured paintings, while tango dancers perform on pavements and musicians play their instruments. This is where I spent my last day in Buenos Aires, soaking in the culture, eating delicious food and reflecting on the most perfect week.
